


i'm yours, silently, i will surrender

by enzhe, MayWilder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Angst, College AU, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sort Of, Trigger Warning In Notes, mature - Freeform, parkner, spiderlad, the boys are at MIT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 20:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19857631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enzhe/pseuds/enzhe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder
Summary: "I love you."“And I love you.” Harley seals the phrase with another kiss, before Peter pulls away to bite and lick at already feverish skin. Harley tastes like sweat, and Peter finds that knowing he was worked up over Peter’s safety sends a sort of thrill through him. He runs his fingers over Harley’s back, pushing at his shirt to touch bare skin. He prays that he can press close and let the world fall away.Unfortunately, he can’t.***Or, Peter has sensory overload issues, and tries to hide it. Eventually, he can't.





	i'm yours, silently, i will surrender

**Author's Note:**

> To be better safe than sorry, PLEASE read the spoiler-esque trigger warning at the end if you have self-sacrificing, sex-related trauma.

At first, Harley doesn’t care that Peter’s sexual attention seems to be aimed primarily at Harley’s satisfaction. To be perfectly honest, he’s in a bit of a haze when Peter starts touching him. The other boy just has to glide his fingertips over the back of Harley’s neck and Harley’s eyes are fluttering closed as he leans into the touch.  
  
“I can hear your heartbeat,” Peter teases, perched on Harley’s lap. He presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s chin. “If only the whole dorm could hear it.”  
  
Harley turns his head to press his lips against Peter’s. “If only the whole world knew Spider-Man was such a _tease_.”  
  
Peter’s reply is shut off by the slight uptick of Harley’s hips. He cries out, head falling back. From there, the kisses get hotter and Peter’s whimpers get louder. Harley imagines all the noises he could pull from Peter, all the things he could make him feel, and he wants all of it. He tries to make it happen, carries Peter to his stupidly small bed and bites along sensitive skin. Peter makes a little choked sound, and Harley grins.  
  
“Worked up, sweetheart?” Harley murmurs.  
  
Peter’s only response is to use his strength to flip them over. He kisses down Harley’s neck and pulls at his clothes. “We’ll see who gets worked up.”  
  
From there, it evolves.  
  
Every time Harley thinks he’s getting somewhere, thinks he’s going to make Peter come undone beneath him, the other boy takes charge. He likes it, of course, being at the mercy of Peter and accepting the attention lavished on him, but there’s never any reward for the young superhero. Harley frequently gets off—Peter’s hands have complete control over him and bring him to a panting mess in between the library shelves. He uses his teeth to unbutton Harley’s jeans in the lab closet so he can give him the blow job of his life. There’s even one memorable night where watching a movie in the dorm turns into Peter grinding back against Harley and making a mess of the blonde’s pajamas.  
  
He tries to bring it up, to push Peter into confiding in him. The only reply he ever gets, however, is Peter’s sly smile and a kiss to his cheek. “Getting you off does things to me that nothing else ever could, baby. _I love it_.”  
  
Most often, that’s followed by Peter showcasing _exactly how much_ he loves it.  
  
“I love you,” Peter whispers one time in the middle of the night. “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. You know that, right?”  
  
“I know,” Harley tells him. “I love you, too, more than anything. I hope you know that.”  
  
“I do, I promise.”  
  
And then they fall asleep, twisted together in Harley’s bed, and his worries wash away.  
  
It isn’t until weeks later, when Peter’s face is red and hair disheveled, that Harley looks at him and knows he’ll simply _burst_ if he doesn’t have the chance to bring Peter over the edge.  
  
“Harls,” Peter pants, fingers grasping for Harley’s t-shirt. “Let me touch you, _please,_ I need—  
  
“No,” Harley whispers back. He surges forward and presses Peter into the bed, kissing along his jaw. “Please, sweetheart, please let me touch you. You always focus on me, and I know you like it, but I want to do this for you. Let me.”  
  
There’s a hesitancy in how Peter swallows. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”  
  
And that opens up a whole new world for the couple.  
  


* * *

  
Harley is walking back from his Friday lab when his phone rings with ACDC, letting him know Tony’s calling. He answers with a cheery hope in his voice, knowing they should be headed back from a mission to South Africa.  
  
"Harls," Tony says slowly. "I need you to not freak out."  
  
"That's a sure as hell way to get me to freak out, old man," Harley replies. "Especially when Peter's with you on a mission. What happened?"  
  
"I'm going to let the old man thing slide because I get it, but watch it. And he's okay, but Pete got pretty banged up in a fight. I'm sending Happy to pick you up, he should be there soon."  
  
"Where's Peter?"  
  
"He's at the compound, in the hospital here. Dr. Cho said he's going to be fine, but he needs to rest up for a few days. After Happy’ll fly you up."  
  
Harley's stomach is twisting into knots as Tony speaks, but he tells himself it's alright. He's going to get his eyes on Peter, make sure he's alright, and everything is going to be okay.  
  


* * *

  
Honestly, Peter hadn't meant to anger the lady with a gun. He was sincere when he glanced at the weapon in her hand and mentioned that threatening people was a lot of more effective when the safety wasn't on. Apparently, she took that and the following action of Peter webbing the gun from her hand as a mockery. How is he supposed to know that she would get angry, and summon a zombie ninja?  
  
"For the last time," Tony sighs. "That thing was not a zombie. It was an undead ninja, yes, but zombie is the wrong term. Strange said the bite wouldn't turn you into a zombie too."  
  
"But the bite almost killed me, so I would be dead, and thus capable of also being raised from the dead as a zombie spider. Which, in hindsight, would be pretty cool, right?"  
  
"You are something else, kid."  
  
"Eh, you love me."  
  
"Sometimes, I think it'd be easier if I didn't."  
  
Moments after they fall into silence, Peter hears a familiar racing heartbeat, one he could pick out in a crowd in the middle of the city. Sure enough, Harley rounds the corner of his hospital door less than a minute later, chest heaving from little pants. That, added with the sweat at his brow and the way the hairs at the back of his neck curl, Peter can tell he's been running. There's a hot desperation in his eyes and a flush to his cheeks, and worry that Peter knows is because of him. He hates making Harley feel that way. The other boy can't stand for Peter to be in pain. It's like he feels the pain himself, sometimes.  
  
“Hey baby,” Peter says weakly. “Please don't freak out, I promise I'm okay.”  
  
“Yeah well,” Harley breathes. “Can you do me a favor, and not get into fights with zombie ninjas anymore? Happy told me all about them.”  
  
“I can't make any promises, but I sure can try.”  
  
“I guess I’ll accept that.”  
  
Tony sighs dramatically. “I'm going to call Pep and get a cup of coffee. I'll give you guys some alone time.”  
  
As he walks by, he ruffles Harley's hair. The blonde ducks away from the hand with a small grin before shutting the door behind the shared mentor figure. He looks back to his boyfriend in the hospital bed. “Are you hurt? Or can I come hug you?”  
  
“You can do more than hug me,” Peter says. He's got the adrenaline from the battle still pumping through him, the high of almost dying and somehow escaping with a few healed scratches and a broken bone. On the road to recovery, he can enjoy the thought that he almost died, but he didn’t, and the man he loves stands at the foot of his hospital bed.  
  
He knows that Harley can hear the want in his voice. It's clear by how he drops his school bag and moves forward, elegantly placing himself onto the bed and into Peter’s lap. The action fuzzies Peter’s mind. It's like he can't control himself. He tugs Harley close, so that they're pressed together. Harley's lips touch as much skin as he can manage as Peters hands put him impossibly closer by belt loops.  
  
“You can't do that again,” Harley says. “Tony told me that you were really hurt, that it could have been bad.”  
  
“It could have been, but it wasn't.” Peter kisses Harley. “I'm right here. I’m okay, I promise. I love you.”  
  
“And I love _you_.” Harley seals the phrase with another kiss, before Peter pulls away to bite and lick at already feverish skin. Harley tastes like sweat, and Peter finds that knowing he was worked up over Peter’s safety sends a sort of thrill through him. He runs his fingers over Harley’s back, pushing at his shirt to touch bare skin. He prays that he can press close and let the world fall away.  
  
Unfortunately, he can’t. As Harley starts scratching his nails at the base of Peter’s neck, grinding his jeans through the thin hospital fabric, he feels everything dialed up another notch. He can hear Harley's heart, the blood pumping through his veins. While that’s a good sound, it pounds too loudly in his head. He can hear the papers shuffling at the nurses’ station. He can hear the TVs in the other two patient rooms, and Tony talking to Pepper on the phone down the hall.  
  
Harley’s jeans are suddenly too rough, pressing the already uncomfortable hospital linens against Peter's skin in a terrible scratch. He can feel the rash forming from the contact, as quickly as it heals because of his super abilities. Harley's nails become too sharp, his breath too harsh in this ears.  
  
But he can hear Harley loving it, _loving him._ The soft sigh of his own name on his boyfriend’s lips, the desperate jerkiness to his movements as he tries to be as close as possible and revel in the fact that they're both alive, and that Peter is okay. So, he gets his teeth and tries to find a focal point. He tunes in to Harley’s heartbeat, following the steady rhythm as clothes begin to peel away. It's almost worth the pain, to feel skin on skin and the heat of his boyfriend’s breath. To be as close as two people can physically be. He loves Harley, he'll give this to Harley. He can let him know that he's alive, give them both the security that the intimacy of sex can bring.  
  
Even when his senses cry out at Harley's skin, when Harley pushes into him and the muscles stretch, _when the burn is too much_ , Peter tucks his face into Harley's neck and focuses on Harley's heartbeat. It's going to be fine, he's going to make it through.  
  
And somehow, he does. By keeping focus on Harley's pulse and feeling the obvious pleasure course through the other boy, he finds himself following Harley over the edge in a miserable state of pain and ecstasy. They're both shaking as they come down, harsh breaths and too-tight grips making Peter's head swim. He can’t get his breathing under control because of the pain and he feels foolish. The adrenaline crashes, everything hurts, and he loses control.  
  
“Peter?” Harley asks worriedly. He cups Peter’s face, but even that is too rough. Calluses brush against Peter’s skin and he jerks back. “Peter, what’s wrong sweetheart, what happened?”  
  
 _Water_ , he manages to remember. _Water dulls, water makes things easier._  
  
“Water,” he manages out loud. “I need to be in the water.”  
  
They tumble out of the bed. Harley gets him in the shower, lukewarm water rushing over his skin. “I’m going to go get Tony, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”  
  
Peter doesn’t know what happens after, because he closes his eyes and finally, finally the world melts away and the pain is gone.  
  


* * *

  
When he wakes up, Harley is sitting at the foot of the bed. He has tears in his eyes, which are puffy and red.  
  
“Harley,” he whispers.  
  
“How long?” Harley snaps. When Peter doesn’t answer, he stands. “How long has this been happening, Peter?”  
  
He ducks his chin. “...Always.”  
  
“Al—” Harley cuts himself off with a choked sound. “I can't...Tony told me about this…sensory overload stuff. How it’s dialed up to eleven, and sometimes you can’t control it. I get that. But why didn’t you…”  
  
“I wanted to make you happy, and you get so upset when I’m hurt. I knew you wouldn’t touch me.”  
  
“I’ve been hurting you, Peter,” Harley hisses. “For months, we’ve been having sex. And you’re telling me that this entire time, you’ve been _pretending_ to enjoy yourself?”  
  
“I have been!” Peter defends. “It’s not that simple. It feels good, but the more I want you and the better it feels, the more I feel everything around me. Normally, its up to eleven. With you, its more like…twelve.”  
  
Harley looks pale and sick, close to how Peter feels. He turns away, and there’s a miserable stretch of silence where Peter doesn’t know what's going to happen. He can’t look at Harley.  
  
Finally, Harley sniffles. “You took the choice away from me, sweetheart.”  
  
“It’s my body, I get to say if it’s okay or not—  
  
“ _That is not fair!_ ” When Harley turns back, finally looks at him, he carries a quiet fury. “You have nightmares about hurting me with your super-strength. You’re so scared of it that you wanted Karen to monitor our sex life so you could build safety protocols into her in case you used too much strength. I thought it was insane! But I get it, because I can’t imagine hurting you—and I have, I have now, for _months_ —“ A hand clamps over his mouth, the other over his stomach, like he’s going to be sick. “I need some time to think over this…I just don’t even…”  
  
Harley leaves, picking his bag up from the floor and letting the door slam shut behind him. Peter turns his face into his pillows as tears prick his eyes. The spider-bite had given him a lot over the years. At the time, it gave him purpose to move on from Ben's death. After that, without it, he would have never met Tony. And if he hadn't met Tony, he wouldn't have met Pepper or Morgan. He wouldn't have met Harley, who he loves more than he knew he could.  
  
But this? This feels like a curse. This is a burden, one that prevents him from doing what he wants and being vulnerable with the man he loves.  
  
To put it simply...it hurts.  
  
He isn't sure how long he cries before May shows up. She's wearing her softest sweater and padded shoes. The thought that she must know has him crying harder on her shoulder as she holds him and whispers reassurances.  
  
"I messed up," he croaks. "Harley, he left. He's not going to forgive me, I lied—"  
  
"Shh," May murmurs. "You need to give him more credit, honey. Harley loves you and this is just a hiccup."  
  
"You didn't see his face. Or hear him. He was so hurt."  
  
"Trust is built," May counters. "And sometimes that means making mistakes, learning from them, and building it back."  
  
Peter tucks closer. "I don't know, Aunt May."  
  
"Have you thought about focusing on getting better?"  
  
Peter looks up. Tony is sitting by the bed, eyes red and looking tired. His grey hairs seem more prominent, and the wrinkles deeper. "Wh-What do you mean?”  
  
“Exactly what I said,” Tony continues in a gentle tone. “I love you kid, and I love Harley, but this doesn’t just affect your sex life with Harley. It’s going to affect you in other areas if you can’t work through it every time you get worked up. It causes you physical pain, Peter, and maybe you need to work on this not just for Harley, but for yourself.”  
  
Peter thinks on it for a long moment, flashing through his life since the bite and his growing intimacy with Harley. “Can I do it for the both of us?”  
  
“Yeah,” Tony chuckles. “You can.”  
  
“Wait,” Peter looks up. “Does that mean…?”  
  
“Oh, yes. You, Peter Parker, are finally going to see a therapist.”  
  


* * *

  
Harley stares down at the two pairs of pants in his hands, mind annoyingly numb. It's been a week since he left Peter sitting in the hospital room. Thanks to their differing majors, their paths don’t usually cross unless planned, so he hasn’t seen his boyfriend since that day. There’s a part of him, even as he walks through the store collecting the gentlest material he can find, that wonders if he ruined any chance he had with Peter.  
  
Not only has he been hurting Peter for months now, but he stood in front of the other man and _blamed him for it._  
  
He should have seen. He should have _known._  
  
“Excuse me, sir?” a store attendant walks up to Harley. “You look confused, son.”  
  
Harley opens his mouth to say he’s fine, but looks back down. “So, I fucked up with my boyfriend and as a result, I am attempting to make a couple changes.”  
  
“Alright,” the man says slowly. “I’m Daniel. How can I help you?”  
  
“My boyfriend, he’s…got a condition,” Harley stumbles out. “His senses are painfully heightened sometimes, and I want to make things easier for him to have me around.”  
  
Daniel’s eyes widen. “Then fate has brought us together, young sir. My wife has something like your lover boy. I’ve made many a change in the past fifty years.”  
  
“Oh,” Harley says. “That’s—perfect, actually.”  
  
“Indeed. Now, let me start with something important: there is such a thing as too soft. The pants you’re holding? Too soft. You don’t want to overstimulate him, right?”  
  
“Yes sir.”  
  
“Brilliant. Let me direct you to—oh, my boy. Do you touch your boyfriend with these hands?”  
  
“Uh, yes? I’m a mechanic.”  
  
“ _My word._ We have quite the day ahead of us.”  
  
Daniel turns out to be right. They start with an entire new wardrobe, one which Tony insists on paying for. Harley’s hesitant to accept at first until he decides Peter is more important than his pride. Thus, he gets a ridiculous influx of shirts, pants, underwear, even dress clothes that are soothing to the touch. All of his shoes are padded on the bottom to prevent making noise.  
  
From there, he’s led to a spa a few doors down. Daniel passes him off to Irene, who gives his hands and feet a spectacular treatment that scrubs away dead skin and smooths over his calluses. She even gives him a box of products and a list of instructions to keep healthy, smooth skin that won’t irritate Peter.  
  
“This is not a permanent fix,” Irene says, ringing up his basket. “But it will make his life much easier.”  
  
“Yes ma’am.”  
  
“Now, let’s go over the appropriate scents one more time before you leave, alright?”  
  
By the end of the day, Harley’s exhausted. He’s got a new list of changes to memorize, a test he has absolutely not studied for, and a phone that’s ringing—  
  
 _With Peter’s face on the screen._  
  
“Hello?” Harley asks, trying to control the shake in his voice. “Sweetheart?”  
  
“Hey,” Peter answers breathlessly. “I, um, I need to see you.”  
  
“I need to see you, too,” Harley says. “Do you want to come over?”  
  
"No, actually, I was thinking you could meet me somewhere?" Peter sounds so nervous. "I just, um, I really think I should show you something."  
  
"Yeah, okay," he replies. "Text me an address. When do you want me to come?"  
  
"Does as soon as you can work?"  
  
Harley's throat tightens. "Yeah, that works."  
  
When they hang up, Harley gets a text almost immediately. He hurries to change into a new set of clothes before running out the door to follow the address that's only three miles from the school. It's a short time period for him to sit in his car, hands twitching against the seat and panicking slightly. This is good, right? This has to mean Peter's forgiven him?  
  
Christ, he can't think straight.  
  
When he pulls up to the address, Harley finds himself in front of a row of townhouses. He moves from anxiety to confusion. The door to the number in the address is unlocked and marked with a sticky note to head on in. He walks down brick hallways, smooth wooden floors, and into...  
  
Well, he's honestly not sure what he's walked into.  
  
It looks like a normal house at first. Beautiful, simplistic touches, void of any furniture but attractive in its own nakedness. Harley's eyes are drawn to the typical crown molding and wide archways. Yet, there's something different. As he stops walking through the empty rooms, he realizes something.  
  
He can't hear anything from outside.  
  
Peter appears in a doorway. "Hey, babe."  
  
Harley feels his throat tighten. "Peter. I-I'm so sorry for walking out, for making you feel guilty for something I should have seen—  
  
"I'm sorry for lying," Peter cuts him off with a step forward. "Harley, I love you, and I should have never kept this a secret. I trust you, with my powers and my heart and I...I should have trusted you with this."  
  
"And I should have been understanding of how difficult this is for you," Harley pushes back. He clenches his fist. "And, I don't want to lose you because I was mad at myself or focusing on the wrong thing. I need you to know that I'm trying to make it better."  
  
"I know, Harls—  
  
" _No_ , you don't understand. I have a plan, a solution. I've been researching, and I've asked for and gotten a lot of help. I can make it easier for you to be around me, get you adjusted to a more comfortable normal before pushing for anything again. Skin care, new sheets, new clothes, everything. I can do it, I can help you."  
  
Peter's lower lip trembles. "I wanted to try and fix this myself. For me, and for us."  
  
"You don't have to."  
  
"But I want to, I want some semblance of a normal life. And I want to have a healthy sex life with you. I love being with you, and I want it. So, I...I've been learning too. How to make things work."  
  
"How?" Harley finds himself asking, genuinely curious.  
  
"I am going to be seeing a therapist once a week," Peter explains. He walks even closer, so that he's smiling and talking quickly in the circle of empty space. "They want to mainly talk about my inability for self-care, which apparently might have to do with unpacking shit from when Ben died, but anyways. I'm working through some stuff, and I probably will have to for awhile. And I spoke to Bucky and Steve. Their senses aren't as enhanced as mine, but they are above average. They were able to help."  
  
Peter cringes.  
  
"Well, mainly Bucky. Steve was..."  
  
Harley shudders at the thought.  
  
"Anyways," Peter plows on. "I took their advice on a lot of things, starting with creating a safe space. One where I feel secure, on solid ground. So, Tony and I worked on making this space just that. The walls block out all the noise, the windows are non-reflecting—you’ll love seeing how those work—and I have amazing blackout curtains. Properly placed air vents help with scent control, and the temperature is perfectly adjusted.  
  
"I also have these headphones things. They help control my input, and Bruce is working on some sort of...shot, I can take every year or so. It'll help me access my own control settings, almost, like a computer. Until that's ready, though, I have these contacts and stuff. It's really cool, you'll want to tear them apart and figure out how everything works."  
  
Peter finishes in a huff of excited breath. "So, um, yeah. If you still wanna be with me, I kind of bought this place with my internship money? It's...well, it's designed just for us. If you, you know. Wanna live here. Which, based on your effort, kind of feels like you might? Want to?"  
  
Harley can't help it. He throws back his head and laughs because _of course_ , while Harley was shopping and going to the spa, Peter was creating tech and building a home. He was that kind of person.  
  
"I love you, Peter Parker," Harley sighs when he calms down. "And I think we're going to make this work."  
  
Peter smiles his breathtaking smile, and Harley feels something good settle over his bones. They're alright. They're in love. And even if they have a long way to go, _that’s enough for now._

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Peter ignores his own severe pain caused by sensory overload to give Harley sex until he can't anymore


End file.
